


Now We're There, And We've Only Just Begun

by DontOffendTheBees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apologies, Baby Jack Kline, Cas is a good dad and Dean will be too if he believes in himself, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Finale What Finale, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Get in losers we're breaking the cycle of abuse, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Requited Love, Soft Epilogue, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, mentioned/background Saileen, spn 15x20 isn't real it can't hurt you, the boys actually talk shit out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29840574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontOffendTheBees/pseuds/DontOffendTheBees
Summary: “Dean,” says Cas again, angling Dean’s head with his hand to look him in the eye. “Talk to me.”He almost says it’s nothing. It’s fine. It’s none of his business. But it isn’t, and it isn’t, and itis.And it may feel like carving his own chest open to talk about but Cas has waited so long, been so patient and Dean doesn’t wanna drive him away again, or poison thisthingbetween them when they’ve barely gotten started. Doesn’t want to hurt him again. Him or Jack.“I,” he chokes, closing his eyes against the patience in Cas’, the trust in Jack’s. “What if I can’t do this?”In which Dean acknowledges the past, and looks towards the future.
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 202





	Now We're There, And We've Only Just Begun

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic one a whim a while ago, and when I realised the birthday of one of my fave baby!Jack truthers was coming up I made the effort to finish it off! (Although fair warning, while Jack is present and important to this story he's also very sleepy and quiet and not actively participating a lot, he's had a very long day bless him. This is mostly a Destiel feelings conversation fic with a sprinkle of family feels.)
> 
> We don't have time to unpack 15 seasons of trauma in a 6k-ish fic but we do touch on John's abuse and Dean's subsequent mistreatment of Jack- nothing explicit but be warned if you're sensitive to those topics! There'll also be mention of Dean's self-destructive periods. I'm hoping I struck the balance right between Dean being comforted as a victim of abuse and apologetic/self-aware as a perpetrator. He needs more therapy than I can give him <3 This is Dean POV so quite centred on his feelings (I just love writing Dean) but Cas and Jack are very, very loved. Sam and Eileen are also mentioned, but not present (I didn't have the spoons to expand the scope of the story, promise I'll give them some love some other time!)
> 
> Title of this fic comes from 'This Will Be Our Year' by The Zombies.
> 
> If you want a soundtrack or just some song recs I made [a lil playlist inspired by this fic](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/76ktsIFBrSXOPLxnRCjlD4?si=S0SAmdAlS42DfXr7IX8Veg) ^^
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> >>>FIC CONTEXT: This fic diverges from 15.19, but if you have the story for it that I have in my head it also recontextualises 15.18 a bit. You don’t NEED to read this with my story in mind, you can make up any which way you like to get the characters to this point of Chuck being gone, Cas being back and Jack giving up his powers and being a baby, but if you want to know the story I had in mind while writing, here it is: 
> 
> _PRIOR TO THIS FIC: Cas and Billie got dragged to the empty, but Cas was woken from his nightmares there by Dean’s fervent prayers (power of love, bitch). In the Empty he found Billie again, who it turns out was acting under the control of Chuck, who went against the most intrinsic laws of nature to take control of Death itself and force her to take part in his dramatic narrative climax by turning on the Winchesters. Making one last alliance with Cas, one last ticket back to the land of the living in exchange for his help getting out of here, she cuts out his grace with her death scythe and rides with him back to Earth as his human body is ejected from the Empty. Back on Earth they meet up with the Winchesters after they’ve won the battle with Chuck, and seeing that Jack is overwhelmed and scared with the power of God in his hands, Billie offers to take it. With his powers taken by Billie to be channeled back into the universe, Jack’s magically advanced age reverses, turning him back into a small child. With God and Death now one and the same and the universe in balance, Billie departs with work to do to dismantle Chuck’s flawed structure- to offer angels and demons and monster souls one final chance at a life on Earth, and then shut down the afterlife for good. She tells the TFW to go live their lives. This will be their final chance to do so. Last chance, one life, then peace when they’re done._
> 
> _Now they’re back at the bunker, with a very tired and headachey toddler, and some conversations to have._

“D’you think he remembers anything?” asks Dean, keeping his voice low for the sake of the sleeping toddler on his chest. “He’s had uh, kind of a busy life for a three year old.”

“Yes, I think he does,” says Cas, soft and a little wistful. He could pull up a chair to sit next to them, but he doesn’t seem to wanna be away from Jack’s side for a second. Or Dean’s, for that matter. “But I’m not sure how long that will last. I’m given to understand that children retain very few memories from their first few years; if he grows as a normal child would, those memories may fade.

Dean nods, deep in thought as he rubs Jack’s back, so small Dean’s hand practically covers it. He can feel the kid drooling on his shirt a little, but hey, it’s far from the worse thing he’s ever got on his clothes. “Is it, uh… is it bad that I kinda hope so?”

He can’t quite bring himself to elaborate. It’s one thing to say he hopes this kid doesn’t carry guilt over what he did to Mary all his life- he thinks that’s pretty normal, not wanting your kid to shoulder that kind of burden. It’s another to admit the selfish reasons; like he doesn’t want Jack to remember Dean at his worst. The resentment, the anger, how unfair he was, how callous. It shouldn’t have taken him this long, he shouldn’t have needed to have Jack shrunk down to his actual physical age and thrust into his arms to see what a goddamn jerk he was for taking out his feelings on the kid, but here he is. And now if he has to admit to Cas that he’d rather their boy forget everything than know what a piece of shit his old man is, he may just crumble from the shame.

But it’s Cas he’s talking to, so of course he doesn’t have to say a word of that out loud. They know each other too well.

“It’s… understandable,” says Cas diplomatically, petting Jack’s hair and not making eye contact with Dean. “I would like it if he could grow up without certain burdens, too. But I will miss the moments we’ve shared.”

And by ‘miss’, he obviously means ‘be absolutely devastated by the loss of’, but Dean doesn’t call him on the understatement. “You got a whole lot more of those ahead, man,” he says instead, going for comfort. “Fifteen years, at least, ‘til he flies the nest. Assuming he’s like Sam, makin’ a break for college soon as he can.”

“He might be like Sam.” Cas smiles slightly. “He might be like you.”

Dean snorts. “God, I hope not.”

_“Dean-”_

“I’m not- I’m not tryna be a dick, Cas. I’m not throwing a pity party, here, I’m just…” He shakes his head. “Fuck, Cas, I would… I would give _anything,_ any goddamn thing in the world for this kid to have it better than I did. Have a good life. Have the confidence to stick up for himself, go his own way.”

Cas’ eyes soften. “He will, Dean. He already has three fathers who care for him.”

“That’s true. Guess he’s got all of us beat, three-nothin’.” Dean chuckles. “That’s… man, what the _hell_ are we gonna put on the papers?”

That makes Cas crack a smile. “We’ll work something out; perhaps one of us will take on the title of uncle, at least in the legal sense.”

“Well, I ain’t marrying my brother, so I guess it’s me or Sammy getting demoted.”

“I wouldn’t call it a demotion. More of a new career path.” Cas pauses, glancing up from Jack just barely. “I wouldn’t like to assume, but. You did just imply that you’d be open to marrying me.”

...Fuck. He did. His face burns. “Well, uh. I mean.” He plays it off with smirk. “Sure. If things implode between you and Sam, why not.”

He may be a coward, but Cas’ eyes crinkle up in amusement so at least he’s an entertaining one. Cas takes pity on his awkward ass, though, and turns his attention back to Jack and the conversation back to practicalities. “Three listed parents will raise eyebrows, especially if two are brothers. But unfortunately even two parents won’t be welcome everywhere if they’re the same sex. Perhaps Jack’s best chance at a ‘normal’ life is with Sam and Eileen. Or a single parent, even if we’re all involved in his upbringing unofficially.”

Dean clutches Jack a little tighter without meaning too, feeling the dozing kid burble against his shoulder. Eileen’s amazing, and Sam has as big a claim on Jack as any of them, but something ugly churns in his gut at the thought of handing the responsibility off like that, even in name only. “Hey, uh- let’s not rush ‘em, alright? Sam and Eileen are still kinda figuring it out, y’know. Early days. Probably wanna get a few relationship milestones under their belts before they get to the two-point-five kids and a white picket fence stage.”

“And what does that make us?” Cas prods, not unkindly. “Established? Settled? Or are you implying that you’d rather bear sole responsibility, put your name down as a single father?”

“No way, man, not me- if this kid can only have one of us it should be you, no question. But…”

Fuck, his mouth feels dry. His heart’s pounding, he can hear his blood rushing in his ears. Is this how Cas felt, holding out his weird little heart in his hands? No, he’d been _happy,_ truly happy, because he’s the bravest, craziest son of a bitch Dean’s ever known. Dean could really go for a bit of that courage right now, because it feels like he’s baring his soul and that’s scarier than any god or monster he’s ever squared down.

But they barely made it out alive. Against all odds, they’re here. Together. And they’ve wasted enough time already.

“Maybe… maybe he can have both of us.” He wets his lips, directing his gaze to Jack and his words to Cas and hoping it’s enough. “And you and me can have each other. If… y’know, if that’s still what you-”

His breath catches as a hand- _Cas’_ hand- covers his own on Jack’s back. He stares at it for a hot second, until he feels Cas’ other hand cup his cheek, tilt it up, turn Dean to meet his eyes. It takes effort not to shy away under the intensity, but Dean steels himself and holds his ground as those old, old eyes pin him in place.

“Is it what _you_ want?” asks Cas, and cuts Dean off before he can hurry to reply. _“Think,_ please, Dean. You’ve lived your whole life for others, out of duty, and I don’t want Jack- or myself- to be another obligation. For our sake, and yours. You’re free now, Dean. You don’t have to devote your life to him, or to me. I had no expectations when I told you the truth, and I will stay by your side with or without a response. You don’t have to return my feelings. You never did.”

Dean gulps, meets his gaze. Mulls over the out Cas has just offered him. “What if I want to?” His voice drops, his fingers flex on the back of Jack’s little shirt. “What if I do?”

Cas searches him, serious as the plague. And then nods shortly. “Then I might have to kiss you. Right now.”

It’s amazing Jack hasn’t woken up; he’s pressed right over Dean’s heart, and it sure feels like that’s trying to pound out of his chest. Dean holds him a little more securely, willing his arms not to give out, and glances down from Cas’ eyes to his lips. “You’d better.”

And he does. Just like that. As if they’ve been doing it for years.

...Fuck, why _haven’t_ they been doing this for years?!

He melts under Cas’ touch, moving when he’s moved. Cas’ thumb under Dean’s jaw to tilt it back, fingers wrapped securely round the nape of his neck, and it’s practically a Spiderman kiss with the way Cas is stooping over Dean in his chair but Dean doesn’t even have it in him to bitch about being the MJ in this situation. Doesn’t have it in him to think of anything except Cas, how warm and real and solid he is, how familiar kissing him feels even though it’s new and exhilarating and pooling in his stomach, warm and slow and sweet as molasses.

It’s scary, it’s earth-shaking, and somehow it’s the safest he’s ever felt. With one hand Cas holds Dean’s face gently in his palm like he’s something precious, something straight-up _sacred,_ but desirable enough that he can’t quite help tightening his grasp when the kiss deepens. With the other he reaches down, helps support Jack in Dean’s arms, their hands together keeping him safe and secure, Cas steadying them both without even thinking. Loving them both, _protecting_ them both. Like he always has, always will.

 _Fuck._ He loves him. Cas _loves_ him. And Dean-

He breaks the kiss, presses his forehead into Cas’, willing him not to pull away with no hands free to hold him in place. Cas deserves eye contact for this but Dean keeps his closed for now, too overwhelmed by all the thoughts fighting to escape and getting caught in a bottleneck, but there’s one that _has_ to come out now before he chickens out and pushes it down again and it’s bursting through the blockade like a goddamn wrecking ball- _“Cas,”_ he rasps. “I love you, too."

Cas’ breath hitches, his hand slides down to the back of Dean’s neck and tightens. “Dean…”

He said it. He said it and it’s out there and it _exists_ and it’s…

_Woah._

“I love you,” he says again, experimentally. It comes out smoother the second time. The words still feel foreign on his tongue, tripping over awkwardly, but it feels… good. Feels _right._ He laughs, breathless, and says it again, getting easier with every repetition. “I- _Cas,_ I fuckin' _love_ you!”

It’s _heady,_ the way the words fill him up, and just _saying_ them gives him all he needs to open his eyes and look at Cas- and damn if the look on his face ain’t worth every pound of courage it took. Open, adoring, smiling the most enormous gummy smile and he looks so fucking _dumb_ and and Dean wants to _kiss_ him and _holy shit Dean can KISS him-_

Damn, the sight of that smile ain’t nothing on how it feels against his lips. How Cas’ laughter feels, air puffing into Dean’s mouth. His chest feels crammed full but lighter than air, like his lungs are full of helium. But maybe that’s not even down to Cas specifically; maybe that’s just how it feels to finally put down something heavy, an enormous secret you’ve been carrying on your chest. Maybe those words have been weighing him down longer than he could’ve ever imagined.

If this is how it feels to let them breathe, no wonder it’s all the Empty needed. If Cas felt even half as giddy as Dean does right now, that’s a pretty big fucking beacon of sunshine.

He has to break the kiss again when he feels Jack squirming, yanking himself out of _holy shit this is happening_ dreamland to check in on the kid, but Cas doesn’t go far- just cards his fingers slowly through the hair at Dean’s nape as they turn their attention to the wriggling toddler, just hovers at Dean’s shoulder. Old angel habits die hard.

“Hey, kid,” says Dean, breathlessly collecting himself, keeping his voice quiet and a hand steady on Jack’s shoulder as he stirs. He doesn’t wanna pile anymore pain on that little aching head. “You must’ve been real tuckered out, huh?”

Jack blinks up at him, and he may be a baby-faced miniature version of himself but that squint is _all_ Jack- that is to say it’s at least fifty percent Cas, too.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Dean murmurs, shuffling about as he gets ready to stand. “Been a big day.”

Jack doesn’t say anything; having all your godlike powers siphoned and then being forced into a baby-sized brain will fry a guy, Dean figures, it’s okay if Jack doesn’t wanna talk right now. Okay if he _can’t_ talk. But his eyes widen, and he clings to Dean’s shirt almost desperately. “Woah, hey, it’s okay,” Dean soothes, rubbing his shoulder. “I-” he glances at Cas, who nods- _“We’re_ not leaving you, buddy. Just moving a little, ‘kay? Here.” He carefully shifts, making sure Jack is well supported on one arm (with a little help from Cas), and raises his hand, clenched in a loose fist with his little finger extended. “Pinky swear.”

The kid stares at his finger, and either no one got round to teaching him the pinky swear or he’s too loopy to remember, ‘cause he doesn’t hook their fingers. No, he reaches up with his entire hand, and grasps Dean’s pinky in his little toddler fist.

A thought, a memory, hits Dean then like a punch in the gut. The thought that the last time he had a little baby hand grabbing at his fingers like this, his own hand was barely any bigger. Four years old, and somehow he was all that little kid had to hold onto. Four years old, small and traumatised and as nonverbal as the child in his hands right now.

“Dean…”

Cas’ voice is soft, and feels very far away. It comes closer when Dean regains awareness of the hand on his head, no longer stroking through hair but coming round to thumb gently, kindly at the corners of Dean’s eyes. Dean sniffs, reins it in, pulls himself together.

“Sorry, I’m…” He looks down at his hand, so massive compared to Jack’s, so rough and scarred, and for a split second he swears it gleams red-black with fresh blood in the halflight. Swears he can see it staining Jack’s baby soft skin where they touch and he wants to put distance there, hand the kid off to Cas before he gets ruined, before he gets dirtied or bloodied or scraped in Dean’s hard, monstrous hands-

_“Dean.”_

Firmer, this time, and a good thing too. Dean inhales sharply, lurching, and only then realises he’d stopped taking in any air at all.

“Dean,” says Cas again, angling Dean’s head with his hand to look him in the eye. “Talk to me.”

He almost says it’s nothing. It’s fine. It’s none of his business. But it isn’t, and it isn’t, and it _is._ And it may feel like carving his own chest open to talk about but Cas has waited so long, been so patient and Dean doesn’t wanna drive him away again, or poison this _thing_ between them when they’ve barely gotten started. Doesn’t want to hurt him again. Him or Jack.

“I,” he chokes, closing his eyes against the patience in Cas’, the trust in Jack’s. “What if I can’t do this?”

“You’ve done this before,” Cas reasons.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, and Sam’s _super_ well-adjusted.”

“Given the circumstances, I think Sam is doing very well for himself, actually.” He swipes away a tear from Dean’s cheek. “And you’ve come a long way, too.”

“Cas-”

“You are not your father, Dean.”

Blunt, sincere, and cutting right to the crux of Dean’s bullshit. Classic Cas. “You don’t-”

“I _do_ know that,” Cas deflects expertly. “You are not John Winchester, Dean- albeit not for a lack of trying.”

Jack is staring up at him, silent and watchful and knowing in a way most three year olds definitely aren’t. Dean tries not to shrivel under his gaze. “But I’m enough like him.”

“I think that’s a cross anyone with a parent has to bear.”

“Cas-”

“Would you strike him?”

Dean recoils, gaping at Cas. “What?”

“Jack. If he disobeyed you, or disappointed you, would you strike him?”

“Wha- _no,_ Jesus, Cas, are you-”

“Would you abandon him to fend for himself, even if neither me nor Sam could step in for him?” Cas presses, relentless. “Would you throw him onto the streets, allow him to starve?”

Dean looks at Jack, his pudgy face and soft hair and tiny, _tiny_ fingers, and he feels sick. “No. _Fuck,_ no, he’s- he’s just a _kid-”_

“So were you. But your father would have answered my questions quite differently.”

Dean swallows down the bile in his throat. “I- I know it’s different, but…” Cas is right, he _knows_ Cas is right; but the thing is, Cas doesn’t have the whole picture. “Cas- Cas, what if I lose you again?”

Cas falters, wrong-footed. “What do you mean?”

“You-” he laughs hollowly. “Cas, you don’t see me, when you’re not around. When you’re gone, I’m… it’s like I’m not even _me_ , anymore. All the times I’ve lost you, it’s- it’s the closest I’ve ever come to… somethin’ stupid.”

“Dean-” says Cas, shaken.

“And- and that’s why I was so rough on Jack before, too, I _blamed_ him, Cas. I blamed him for you being gone and I took it out on him and- look, my dad was a selfish, obsessed bastard, okay, but he _did_ love me, and it wasn’t ‘til Mom died that things got bad and he started…” his throat works, a lump lodged in there he can barely force air past. “I don’t think you’d trust me with Jack if you could see me when you’re gone. If you’re not here with me-”

“I will be.”

“You don’t know that.”

Dean doesn’t care that it sounds broken, that _he_ sounds broken. No holding back, right? Cas wanted to talk, wanted to _know_ , and he deserves to know the mess he’s about to get himself into. The more times Cas left Dean behind, the more times Dean had to learn how to function with the only goddamn good thing besides his brother in his life gone, the more he realised maybe the only things truly separating Dean and John Winchester were a few bottles of whiskey and an unchecked void of howling grief. And that’s the kind of shit Cas has to know before he gets himself or his son tangled up in Dean’s mess for good- before he does something stupid like trust Dean to hold the fort if he gets left behind again.

But Cas barely hesitates. “As long as I have any say in the matter, I will be here,” he says, quiet but firm. “And if a time comes when I don’t, you won’t be alone. Sam is here, Eileen, Claire, Jody and Donna, Bobby. And more besides, I’m sure. People who won’t let Jack come to harm, who’ll help you carry on.”

He takes Dean by the chin again, turns his face upwards and waits patiently for him to open his eyes and meet his gaze.

“Dean,” he says softly. “You never have to carry on alone again. You have safety now, family, a big one that cares for you, for _us_ deeply. We will be fine. _More_ than fine.

Dean swallows dryly, finding his voice. “You really believe that, Cas?”

“I believe in _you_ , Dean.” He moves his hand, traces the shape of Dean’s face with the tips of his fingers and thumb, gently soothes the shadows under his eyes like he can miracle them away with a touch. “I believe in this. Above all things, I believe in this.”

Another hand rests on Dean’s other cheek, this one small and clumsy. He turns his head slightly to meet Jack’s eyes, can’t tell how much of this conversation the kid’s frazzled brain is processing right now but it feels like he understands, somehow. Feels like he agrees with Cas and he’s trying to telegraph that to Dean, in any way he can, even if that’s just big sparkly eyes narrowed in a stern squint.

Dean huffs, lifts his arm, and gently squeezes that little hand in his once more. “Guess I’m outnumbered.”

“It would seem so,” says Cas, gazing at them both with fondness and pride.

Rolling his eyes, Dean pulls Jack’s tiny hand away from his face and wraps it in his palm. “Okay, okay, point taken.” He gives the kid a serious stare. “You better not take his side every time, man- you’re the tie break vote, you gotta be unbiased.”

Jack giggles- a happy, high sound that’s music to Dean’s ears.

Least it is ‘til it sharply morphs into a cry of pain and tearful wailing, eyes screwing shut and little hands thumping Dean’s chest.

 _“Crap,”_ Dean mutters, gathering Jack close and checking his temperature with a hand on his forehead. “Headaches back, kid?”

“Here, let me-”

Cas freezes with his fingers extended before Jack’s forehead.

Dean’s heart wrenches. “Cas,” he mumbles, watching Cas’ face flicker from realisation to quiet despair as he slowly lowers his hand from his aborted attempt to heal. “It’s okay.”

“It will… take some getting used to,” says Cas, strained.

Dean nods, and leans his head into Cas’ side. “We got time.”

A bit of the tension drains out of Cas, his body sagging into the contact just a little. “We do.”

Shifting a sniffling Jack to one shoulder, Dean stiffly rises from his chair and hip checks Cas on his way past. “You can still help, man- where’d we throw those bags of stuff earlier?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Okay, check ‘em, I’m pretty sure Sam threw in some medicine and stuff good for kids Jack’s age while we were getting him clothes. If there’s any syrup grab that, it’ll go down easier. I’ll get him as comfy as I can, lay him down somewhere darker.”

“Good, thank you,” says Cas, but he catches Dean with a hand on his shoulder before he can go far. “And Dean?”

Dean turns to face him. “Yeah?”

Cas doesn’t say another word- just leans in and kisses him, soft, sweet. Dean hums and leans into it, a little of that light, bubbly feeling welling back up inside him as Cas presses warmth and affection into his lips, escaping from his lungs in a soft puff of laughter against Cas’ mouth.

“Mm- yeah, could get used to this,” he mumbles when they break apart, foreheads lightly knocking, noses bumping.

Cas smiles, all fondness and love and the most gorgeous crinkles around his eyes. Age lines, Dean supposes. He’ll add laughter lines to their number if it takes the rest of their goddamn lives. “You will.”

And then with a parting squeeze of Dean’s shoulder, Cas is gone. But just for now. This time, and every time afterwards, he’ll be back.

Dean smiles, and rubs the back of the fussy, formerly godlike toddler whimpering into his shirt. “C’mon, kiddo,” he whispers, gently tucking Jack’s face and sensitive eyes into the crook of his neck as they step into the brighter light of the hallway. “It’s _way_ past your bedtime.”

* * *

They wind up in Dean’s room; Jack and Cas’ both felt a little sparse. They’ll have to fix that, get Jack some new toys, get Cas some clutter and keepsakes.

Dean watches Jack’s sleeping face; despite the headache, he konked out pretty quick once he was tucked up in bed in a darkened room, still safely cradled in Dean’s arms. Dean watches him and can’t stop thinking about those empty rooms, how only little gifts from Cas set this kid’s bedroom apart from all the other militaristic little units in the Bunker. How Cas’ room looks like it’s barely been touched. This place may be their base but it isn’t their home, and Dean never made the effort to make it feel like one. Never made them feel welcome.

He’s gonna fix that. That’s one of the first things he’s fixing. And it’s a long, long list.

“Is he asleep?”

Dean glances to the door where it’s open just a crack to let in light from the hallway, sees Cas hovering there with a damp cloth and a sippy cup from their hasty baby shopping haul. “Evenin’, sunshine. Yeah, for now. Sam and Eileen still up?”

“Didn’t see them, I presume they retired some time ago.”

Dean hums softly, smiling to himself. They may be in bed but they sure won’t be sleeping, he’d bet money on it. Not that he wants to think about his baby brother’s sex life, but he’s happy for him. Awesome chicks like Eileen with a high threshold for weird supernatural bullshit don’t come along every day.

Maybe if he gives them their space tonight, they'll be more open to babysitting Jack a bit some nights; Dean's too whacked for anything strenuous right now, but he figures him and Cas have earned a little celebratory 'quality time', too. Gotta make up for lost time, right? Dean bites his lip to tamp down a goofy grin.

Cas enters, gingerly setting the cup down on the bedside table along with a plastic bottle and spoon from his coat pocket. “Perhaps it’s best to let him sleep for now.”

“Yeah.”

He’s still hovering, looking like he might even leave, and Dean ain’t having it. “C’mon,” he mumbles, waving a hand towards the empty stretch of bed on Jack’s other side. “Still room at the inn.”

It’s a little hard to see in just the weak stream of light from the hall, but Cas smiles this impossibly soft smile before taking off his coat and carefully laying it at the foot of the bed, right on top of where Dean ditched his own. He lays his rumpled suit jacket on top of that, and his tie, and then slips off his shoes and sets them next to Dean’s boots on the floor. In any other situation, seeing Cas strip back so many layers would be damn near tantamount to a strip tease. Here though, in the shelter of the darkened bedroom, watching him get ready to crawl into bed with Dean and the kid to sleep off this crazy day together, it feels like a whole other kind of intimate. Not so much sexy, it’s not getting Dean’s motor running, but it sure evokes some other strong feelings that Dean’s _way_ too exhausted to unpack.

Cas is cautious when he climbs into bed, slowly coaxing the covers over himself while taking care to keep them tucked around Jack, settling into the space at the kid’s back. Jack doesn’t wake up but he wriggles a little, snuffling contentedly into the pillow when Cas starts gently petting his hair.

Dean watches Cas, and wonders if he should pretend not to. But he guesses they've kinda put their cards on the table now, and it's not like Cas doesn't stare at him constantly. So he lets it happen, lets himself get a little hypnotised by the crease of concern on Cas' forehead when Jack fidgets, by the repetitive motions of his hand in the kid's hair. Cas is gonna wind up with bedhead and pillow creases on his face if he keeps lying like he is, but he doesn't seem to care, and now that Dean's imagined it he kinda wants to see it.

Cas' eyes flicker up to him, and Dean fights the impulse to look away and pretend he wasn't staring. Cas' eyes are soft and sleepy, and still just a little uncertain, like he's waiting for Dean to turn him out of the room. Maybe he's just worried Dean's gonna spiral again. Either way, Dean doesn't like it.

"We should get him some more stuff," Dean blurts (quietly), thoughts from earlier spilling out. "His room's pretty... it's not really a kid's room."

"He'd like that."

"Should get you some more stuff, too.”

Cas tilts his head, mashing it a little further into the pillow in his confusion, and Dean would be biting back a smile if he wasn't so damn nervous about the potentially fraught emotional territory he's fumbling into.

"Y'know. We, uh, we passed your room, too, it's uh. Not exactly homey."

"I never spent a great deal of time in it,” says Cas with the shadow of a shrug.

"But you will now, right? I mean, since you're sticking around?"

Cas nods thoughtfully. "Yes... I suppose it's time to settle down, and-"

"Nest?"

He was expecting the withering look, so it just makes him chuckle. _"Yes._ I suppose I'll need to buy more clothes."

"Guess we're hitting Target tomorrow. Check out some thrift stores, too, get you some stuff with a bit more, uh, character. Do you seriously not have anything? Other than-" he nods at Cas' rumpled suit.

"Laundry isn't a necessity for an angel.” says Cas, like there’s literally never any other reason for putting on different clothes. “I suppose I might have a couple of things left from... from the last time."

From the last time he was human and Dean tossed him out onto the street. Great. "Well, uh- you can borrow something of mine. To sleep, or shop, y'know. That doesn't look super comfy, man."

"Thank you," says Cas earnestly, as if Dean doesn't owe him everything up to and including the clothes on his back. "I haven't missed this feeling of dirt that accumulates, but I find the relief of a shower and fresh clothes consolatory."

"Fuck yeah, man, no better feeling. Sammy and me, we didn't always grow up with the best showers to choose from, but cleaning the day off you, it's... yeah."

Cas’ face is mostly cast in shadow, but Dean’s eyes have adjusted and can see understanding written across it. "I imagine there were a lot of those. Days that you'd want to wash away."

Dean gulps, nods. "Too many."

"I've had a fair few myself."

Dean bites his lip, steels himself. "Cas..."

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

Cas furrows his brow. "Dean-"

"Cas, please. I- I have to say this."

Shutting his mouth with obvious reluctance, Cas nods at him to continue.

"Cas, I... I'm so sorry.” says Dean. He keeps his voice low for the benefit of the sleeping child between them, but the words seem to echo in the stillness of the room anyway. “For all the times I pushed you away, treated you like crap. I mean, we've both hurt each other plenty but I... I kicked you when you were down, and I shouldn't have. You've only ever put your neck on the line for me, and all that happened was I stepped on it myself. I pushed you away, for years, and when you were gone- when you were gone I did the same to Jack.”

Cas doesn’t interrupt, but he does settle a soft, protective hand on Jack’s shoulder through the blanket. Dean grimaces.

“And I can't... I can't undo it. And I can't apologise enough, but... if it's okay with you, I wanna try to make it up to you. I- I owe you everything, Cas. My life, Sam's life. I owe you the world, and... and you _deserve_ the goddamn world. And I'm sorry it took me so long to figure that out. I can't promise I'm never gonna say or do something stupid again- I mean, I'm just kind of a stupid guy, sometimes. But- but you _matter_ , Cas. You're one of the most goddamn important people in my life and I'm never gonna forget that again. Not ever."

He draws in a sharp breath, ragged. He must've talked ‘til he was running on empty.

Giving Jack’s shoulder one more gentle pet, Cas lifts his hand and reaches across the kid to cup Dean's face in his palm. He holds him with the same gentleness, the same protective reverence with which he held their son, and Dean’s heart aches.

"I forgive you, Dean,” he says, quiet but clear as a bell. He soothes a thumb across Dean’s cheek, and smiles a knowing smile. “Of _course_ I forgive you.”

Dean laughs, quiet and stunned. "You really did hear my prayer, huh?"

“Of course. I always do."

“Even now?”

“I think I’ll know, somehow. When you’re thinking of me.” He flicks a thumb across Dean’s eyebrow, following the shape of it, like he’s learning his face through touch. “But maybe you could tell me, talk to me. Just in case.”

They’ve not always been great at that. Add that to the list of things to fix. “Yeah, Cas. I can do that.” He pauses, corrects himself. “I can try. I _will_ try.”

“Good.” He lets his hand come to rest along Dean’s jaw, and his voice somehow drops even lower. “And you don’t need to beg forgiveness from me, Dean. You never do.”

Theoretically, he knows that. In practice… "You, uh- you mind if I keep grovelling a while anyway? For my own peace of mind and shit?"

Cas rolls his eyes, smiling. "If you must."

"Good. You might not think you need it but uh, I think I've gotta take care of you two." He takes a deep breath and covers Cas' hand with his own. "Think you've been covering my ass long enough."

Cas looks at his hand on Dean's face, contemplative. "You've touched me like this. Several times now."

Dean’s never quite prepared for Cas’ abrupt changes of subject, but he rolls with it, even though his face is flushing. "Uh- yeah, guess so."

"Why like this?"

"S'pose I... I dunno, man.” It’s just a thing he does. A thing his mom used to do, sometimes. He doesn’t read into it much. “Feels solid, I guess. Real. I always liked how it felt."

Cas smiles, a little sadder this time. "I've also noticed you only do it when I'm on the verge of death."

No good response to that. How the hell do you explain you're too chickenshit; so goddamn scared of your own feelings that you can't bring yourself to touch your best friend until you're convinced it's your last chance? Dean nods tightly. "Yeah."

"Perhaps-if you're looking for ways to 'make it up to me'-" Dean quietly snorts at the air quotes Cas makes against Dean’s face with his fingers- "you could… just do this. Every now and then, when I'm _not_ at death's door."

Dean swallows, slides his hand down Cas' wrist, arm, past his shoulder and neck, holding him in return. "Anytime, Cas.” he rasps, fitting his hand to the curve of Cas’ face like it was made to be there. “As much as you want."

Cas' eyes flutter closed and he melts into the touch, and Dean's chest fucking caves in. All those times he held himself back from reaching out, too goddamn scared of how he felt, of what other people would see, and all this time he would've found Cas reaching right back.

"Cas?"

His eyes open just a crack, peering at Dean across the pillow and the messy crown of Jack's mousy hair.

Dean swallows, rubs Cas' cheek with his thumb. "Stay with me," he rasps. "I don't think deserve it but- I want you here. I want you to wanna be here, I-" He laughs, choked- "I should've asked you years ago, but… I'm askin' now. Stay with me, Cas. We can stay here, or go somewhere else, I don't care just… I'm done pretending my life isn't better with you in it."

Cas smiles, eyes glistening in the low light, and hell if it doesn't put the 'happiest moment of his life' smile to shame.

"All you had to do was ask."

* * *

They don't get to just gaze into each other's eyes like saps all night. After about half an hour Jack wakes up with a headache so bad he hollers the house down, shattering the peace. He's so loud even Sam pokes his head round the door to check he's okay- although he graciously doesn't say anything about Cas being curled up with them on Dean's bed, and in return Dean doesn't tease him ‘bout the visible hickeys on his neck.

But they make do. Give the kid some syrup, a drink, Cas gently dabs down his little baby brow with a cool, damp cloth. And when the kid's still whimpering pitifully, Dean brings out the big guns, softly singing under his breath and letting old reliable _Hey Jude_ calm him down ‘til he's back to snuffling in his sleep, this time wrapped up nice and safe in Cas' arms. Dean doesn't stop singing for a long time, repeats verses and really milks the _na-na-na_ refrain for all it’s worth- in case Jack can still hear him, obviously. Not because Cas is looking at him with that quiet smile and those crinkles round his eyes like Dean hung the damn moon.

It's surreal. Everything about it. The fact that this tiny kid snuffling and crying on them is _Jack,_ a tiny mini Jack who may or may not remember and understand things the way he did when he was a three year old consciousness in an adult-sized brain. The fact that this weird little kid who just saved the world was once, briefly, _God,_ and is now Dean's son. The fact that his other dad is Cas, former angel of the Lord, Dean's best friend and now… Boyfriend? God, no, dumb word. His _something._ His person, maybe. Partner. He is co-parenting the former antichrist with an angel, a _man,_ and the weirdest thing about it is it doesn't feel weird. None of it. Jack fits in his arms like he was meant to be there, Cas' lips fit with his like they were made for it, and it may be a squeeze but the three of them sharing space in Dean's bed feels natural.

They’ve got a ways to go. Dean isn’t naive enough to think they’re all gonna slide into the apple pie life without some pushback. They have things to figure out, decisions to make about what they are, where they’ll go, what’s best for Jack and best for this thing they’re just now starting to call a relationship. They’ll wanna move, probably, raise the kid somewhere with natural light and less dangerous magical crap. They’ll wanna be close enough to Sam that he can visit, but far enough to get a little distance- Dean has some old habits and patterns to break out of and he figures step one is making sure him and his brother aren’t living in each other’s pockets anymore. They’ll wanna make sure Jack’s got all the shots and stuff he needs, make sure they’ve got the papers they need to send him to school, kindergarten, whatever. They’ll wanna make sure their _own_ papers are in order, last thing Dean needs is to abandon his family by getting hauled to jail on a stack of old but serious charges- and he needs to get to a place where he never risks adding to those charges, either. Clean up his act. Retire, maybe, from the hunting game, or at least cut back significantly. Try to settle into domestic life- try _not_ to resent Cas or Jack when he starts feeling restless, or useless.

Whatever happens next, whatever fights break out, they’ll deal with them. Together. He knows that now, at least, even if he’ll have to keep reminding himself- keep begging Cas to remind him. Because they have one life, and they’re for damn sure gonna make the most of it. He’s done wasting time, sabotaging himself. He has people to look after. He has people to look after _him,_ and he’s gonna do whatever he can not to let them down.

He drifts off, eventually. Sometime after Cas does, the former angel taking to sleep like a fish to water after their long, crazy day. And as Dean falls asleep, his hand tangled with Cas’ on top of the covers, their arms and bodies carefully shielding their kid from the world, he feels something he hasn’t felt for a long time. It feels like safety, like home, like peace.

Feels like being okay.

**Author's Note:**

> <3 Hope you enjoyed! Comments are hugely appreciated <3
> 
> What do you think of the Billie alternate ending? I kinda wanna write it sometime, from her POV, but probs when I'm more caught up on the later era of SPN and know her better- I know just fixing the ending of one stupidly mistreated black character doesn't fix the show's deeply entrenched racism problems, but I think she deserves a fic of her own. Maybe I'll get to it sometime, I've been jotting down ideas but I'm just taking things one day at a time right now.
> 
> Happy birthday, fabulous tumblr folk, thanks for giving me a goal to finish a fic for! And thank you, all, for reading- until next time <3


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